The Auction
A fic by Jen
Rating: M
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters—well I do own Octo-Granny, but alas—not the character I'd like to own, right? lol! Oh the things I'd do with—to—Damon if I owned him…*sighs and stares off into space dreamily* Ooops, sorry, got sidetracked. Where was I? Right—I don't own them so don't sue me, okay?
A/N: Wow, you guys blow me away with your reviews and feedback. Thanks so much. Some of your reviews had me cracking up! Seriously I laughed my a$$ off reading a lot of them and I'm glad you all took this fic in the manner in which it was intended—lighthearted fun. We all know in the show Damon would just compel them or most likely leave, but this was so much more fun, right? I'm tickled that you all are enjoying reading it as much as I am writing it!
Okay enough of my chatter—on with the show.
xoxo
Jen
Part 2
The Mystic Grill:
Damon breathed a sigh of relief when he came out on stage and saw Elena in the front row holding a bidding paddle. He knew she wouldn't let him down, well, he'd hoped and maybe even prayed a bit too actually, and who could blame him? When he'd finally figured it was safe to come out of the men's room, he'd been stunned and (though he'd never admit it) horrified to see Massive Marge and Octo Granny, (the gruesome twosome) waiting for him, blocking his path back to the main part of the restaurant. He almost turned around and scurried back into the bathroom, but then pride had reared its ugly head. He was a vampire dammit! And not just any vampire—he was Damon Salvatore. He didn't tuck his tail and run—that was Stefan's gig, not his. He squared his shoulders and determinedly decided to brave it out. He'd just politely walk past them, he decided. No problem. Just a few feet and he'd be in the clear. Hindsight may be twenty-twenty, but it was also ridiculously unfair, if he'd only known what a bad idea that was going to be. Stupid pride!
*Previously*
Octo-Granny and Massive Marge were in a heated debate over who was going to win the date with the gorgeous Damon Salvatore when the object of their discussion (and fantasies) finally made an appearance. Damon paused watching the two (women) and he was using the term loosely—Terminators was more like it, as they argued over him. He clenched his jaw. They hadn't seen him yet so he had a few choices—run out the back door and escape like a coward, which, considering his prior run-ins with these two wasn't as embarrassing as it might have seemed. Option two, he could move with vamp speed past them and be in the clear, but then someone might see that and all hell would break loose. Or three, and this was what his pride was egging him towards, he could simply gather the tattered remnants of his dignity together, calmly walk down the hallway and face his tormentors. He'd honestly rather face a whole slew of Slayers--especially if they looked anything like Buffy, but he'd been hunted down like a fox. Chased into his hole like a rabbit and Damon needed to heal his bruised ego, even if going anywhere near the two lust-addled stalkers held about as much appeal for him as running a gauntlet filled with vervain laced stakes.
Before he made a move though, his decision was taken away when they spotted him. "Damon! Oooohh Daaaammon!" They screeched his name like tawdry fish-wives hawking their wares at an outdoor market, making Damon's sensitive ears ring.
He winced as they advanced upon him. Shit! No way out now. He plastered on a ridiculously fake smile and braved the gauntlet. "Ladies," he said with as much civility as he could muster, considering these two women scared him in a way usually reserved for sharp pointy branches and vervain!
"We've been waiting for you," they said in unison.
"I see," he said. As if he didn't know that—why did they think he'd been hiding?! He rolled his eyes. "That's…" about as appetizing as eating road-kill was his first thought. "Nice," he said instead. He turned to the side and attempted to squeeze past them when one of Octo's many hands grabbed his arm. Damon's jaw tightened, he'd seriously had enough of being groped by her. "Um…I need to get to—" His words ground to a halt when the oh-so intimidating Marge grabbed his other arm.
The two women faced off. Damon glanced from one to the other and the hairs on his neck rose when they both tightened their grips and prepared to hang on. You could almost hear the music from one of those cheesy westerns as the women faced off, each of them determined to keep the prize
Oh shit, Damon thought as he realized he was about to become the booty in a tug-o-war match.
"He's mine!" Marge said, giving him a yank.
"No he's not!" Octo growled, pulling him towards her.
"You've got to be kidding me," Damon choked, as they started yanking him back and forth like he was the last support bra at a Wal-Mart clearance sale!
There was a loud *rrripping* sound as Damon's jacket tore. That was Armani! Damon growled and he was seriously considering which he was going to kill first, when before a sharp voice broke in, startling all three of the willing and (un-willing) participants in the match.
"Ladies what in the world are you doing?!"
Damon's head shot up and when he spotted the Sherriff standing there looking dolled up in a dress he could have kissed her. He'd never been so grateful to see anyone in his life! "If you keep yanking on him like that, I'm going to have to book you two for assault," she threatened.
Chastised, they let him go and it took all of Damon's control not to break into a run and escape the whole scene, but he managed to maintain his self respect and sauntered away as if he hadn't just played the role of rope in tug-o-war.
"Thank you," he said to the Sherriff as his tormentors meandered away towards the stage, casting him longing glances over their shoulders. He shuddered. "I need a drink," he growled.
"I bet you do," she said. "Look if you want to drop out—I'll understand. I didn't realize…well, let's just say I'm embarrassed at some of the reactions you're getting."
Damon grinned. "I tend to have that affect on women…" Now that the immediate danger to his person was over, his normal cockiness rose again. "You look smashing!" he said exaggeratedly, feeling especially charitable towards her after her timely rescue.
She flushed with pleasure. "Thank you, Damon," she said softly. She discreetly checked him out, frowning suddenly when she got to his shoulders. "They tore your jacket," she noted, pointing to his sleeve.
He nodded. "I know, I heard it," he said and shrugged off the jacket.
The Sherriff sighed. "They're really not bad people…they're just—"
Damon made a face as he noticed the third and fourth buttons on his shirt were missing too. "Looking for love in all the wrong places?" he muttered as he flipped open the second button. He sighed as he noticed how much skin he was showing now—great, now he actually looked like a gigolo!
The Sheriff turned away from all that hard male flesh with a blush. "I guess," she agreed with a nervous laugh. As if suddenly remembering why she'd sought him out, she held out a folder. "Oh! I have that information you wanted on the history teacher…"
"Really?" Damon took the file on Alaric Saltzman. "What's his story?"
"Nothing much—it checks out. Not even a speeding ticket, but it turns out it's kind of a rough story. His wife went missing a few years back in North Carolina."
"North Carolina?" Damon asked as he studied the file.
"Yeah her name was Isobel," the Sheriff said pointing to a picture attached to the file.
Bells went off. It was the same women Stefan had brow beaten him about earlier. Damon smirked, and handed the file back to the Sherriff. "Well, thanks for doing that. I feel better now," he said, tucking the information he'd learned in that folder away to be used at a later date. Just then Carol Lockwood's voice could be heard over the microphone announcing the start of the Auction.
Damon straightened his somewhat tattered shirt, "How do I look?"
She smiled. "You don't need me to tell you you're a catch, Damon."
He winked. "Wish me luck." He paused before leaving for the stage. "By the way, if Octo-Granny or Massive Marge win—just pull your gun out and shoot me will you? It'd be far less cruel than making me go on a date with them!"
**present time**
Damon's relief didn't last long when the rest of the front row was quickly taken up by his tormentors. He made a face and shuddered with revulsion as the gruesome twosome took up positions on each end of the row as if making sure he couldn't escape up either aisle if they won the bid. He was never more thankful of being a vampire than he was at that moment because the way those two were eating him up with their eyes, it was like they already had him naked in their minds, and Damon had no doubts he'd be standing up here blushing like a new bride if it wasn't for the fact that he couldn't blush.
*a short while later*
"Now this last bachelor is from one of the Founding Families. He's young, and as you can all see handsome, but he's also involved in charity work with the council...ladies I give you…Damon Salvatore."
Carol Lockwood stuck the microphone under his mouth. "Tell us a little bit about yourself, Damon. We don't have much on you."
He noticed Elena's eyes on him. "Well, I'm tough to fit on a card…" Damon replied with a smirk.
"Do you have any hobbies—like to travel?" Carol Lockwood prompted.
"Oh yeah, I love to travel. I've been all over the world…"
"But you're back here in Mystic Falls, why?"
"Something about home," he said. "It's just compelling." His eyes sought out Elena's and they locked. "It just draws me in. No matter where I've roamed I always come back here."
"So what's your idea of a romantic date, Damon?" Carols asked.
He grinned. "Something secluded—maybe on the beach. A candlelit table for two with the sound of the waves crashing on the shore as music—lots of flowers—candles—good food." He smiled. "I love modern technology, but I'm really an old-fashioned kind of guy."
"Well…" Carol Lockwood sighed, fanning herself with the cards. "It seems Southern charm hasn't completely dissipated after all. We have ourselves a real southern gentleman here," she said, playing to the crowd.
Damon winked at the audience. "Romance isn't dead, ladies—it's just been pushed aside for quick thrills. I like to take it slow—no going in for the quick kill, if you know what I mean? I like it to last—mean something. Make every date special."
Carol Lockwood licked her lips. "That's—" Her voice was breathless, "wonderful. Who'll start the bidding?" she said, fanning herself again as she turned away from Damon and his potent sex-appeal.
Elena couldn't help the thrill that shot through her at his words. Damon could be sinfully seductive when he put his mind to it and he'd obviously given his answer some thought—it had the desired effect. Her heart rate accelerated as the bidding got under way…
"Five hundred," Kelly Donovan said, causing Matt to glare at her as she offered up her part of the rent for a date with Damon Salvatore.
"Six hundred," Elena said, and Matt's eyes flew to her in stunned disbelief.
Octo Granny raised her paddle. "One thousand dollars!" she announced, her chin raised at a pugnacious angle.
"Eleven hundred!" massive Marge countered, glowering at her competition.
Matt glared at his mother as if saying 'if you dare…we're through!' Kelly wisely backed down and got up and left.
Damon swallowed as the hot cougar left the playing field. That left only Elena and the gruesome twosome. He glared at Elena and surreptitiously signaled her to keep bidding. She frowned and mimed pulling out her pockets in a Charlie Chaplin display of 'No-more-money'.
"I'll pay you back," he mouthed to her.
Elena pretended ignorance for a while as MM and Octo bid amongst themselves. Finally at Thirty five hundred dollars, Massive Marge backed off. Mrs. Bindley rubbed her hands together and Damon loosened his collar, getting Elena's attention and giving her more than a few not so subtle hints to bid again.
She waited—drawing it out instead. Let him sweat, she thought, suppressing her giggle when Damon began to fidget. Carol Lockwood waited for another bid before warning the other bidders with the going once—going twice... At that moment, many things happened simultaneously; Damon began to huff audibly, glaring at Elena, practically screaming at her with his eyes to bid again. Octo Granny licked her lips, already seeing visions of getting the hot young stud alone. Carol Lockwood's face clearly said what a shame it was that someone as vital as Damon was going home with Mrs. Bindley. The Sherriff stood up, thinking of ways she could place Granny under arrest and therefore rescue Damon. Caroline Forbes laughed and told Matt if anyone deserved Mrs. Bindley it was Damon.
All of that stopped when Elena stood up. She raised her paddle high. "Five thousand dollars!" she stated in a loud, clear voice. The room seemed to freeze and every head turned to Elena. In that moment it was clear she shouldn't have waited so long. Now she was the spectacle—not Damon.
Carol Lockwood's jaw dropped. Five thousand was an unheard of amount, but her face suddenly lit up as she realized she was about to host the most profitable founder's day fundraiser—ever! Damon's reaction to Elena's bid was immediate and obvious as his body nearly wilted with relief at the reprieve. Massive Marge glowered jealously, but kept her paddle in her lap. Mrs. Bindley looked ready to pummel Elena into next week, but after Carol Lockwood gave the determined granny a firm, 'No, we do not take checks,' the aging groupie didn't raise her paddle again. Instead she sank back in her chair mumbling angrily to herself.
Meanwhile, Elena kept her eyes straight ahead as Carol said the proverbial going once—twice—sold! She could actually feel each and every shocked stare burning a hole in her back as she won Damon Salvatore as her date.
**Later**
Now that he was alleviated of the fear of having to 'date' Octo-Granny, Damon was feeling more like his old self again. He cornered Elena in the hallway to discuss their upcoming evening and Elena couldn't help but notice the satisfied smirk he was sporting on his handsome face—it made her want to smack it right off his face.
He leaned a shoulder against the wall, the glass of whiskey that he never seemed to be without now-a-days, in his hand. He took a sip. "So when do you want me to pick you up?" he asked with a far too smirk-like smile.
She gave a dramatic roll of her eyes. "You can't seriously think we're really going on a date?" she asked in surprise.
He reached out, tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and kept right on grinning. "Of course I can, because we are." She gaped at him and he had the nerve to chuckle in response. She huffed indignantly, but he simply shook his head. "Elena," he chided, "we're members of the founding families—this is a council charity event. We have to follow it through…" He leaned down so that their lips were only inches apart. "To the bitter end if need be," he taunted softly.
Breathless, Elena yanked her head back. She had the insane urge to taste those lips again and he was far too close for her piece of mind, not to mention her heart rate. "But I-I—"
His brow shot up. "You-you—what?" he mocked.
She bit her lip and looked away from those mesmerizing aqua eyes. "I don't want to," she said weakly.
He made a *tsking* sound. "Oh come on—you have a lot of disgusting human frailties, Elena, but being a coward isn't one of them," he told her honestly. "You're also not a liar. You do want to—and that's what scares you the most." His eyes raked over her, nodding to himself as if seeing the answer he sought there. "I'll pick you up tomorrow at 3:00. Be ready," he said over his shoulder before he sauntered out of the Grille and into the night.
Elena's eyes narrowed, she thought about refusing, but he was right they were part of the Founder's celebration—it was one of the duties of being a founding family. Her mother and father had told her that time and again—it was a lesson she wasn't willing to just blow off since it had been so important to them. She sighed—there wasn't a way out. She'd have to go on the date…
Gilbert House:
Jenna was in the kitchen when the doorbell rang.
Elena ran to the top of the stairs. "Oh my God I'm so not ready!" she wailed. "Jenna—help!"
Jenna laughed as she went to the door. "Okay, before you have a melt down…I'll get this—you get ready," she said laughing. She opened the door and had to stop herself from giving a wolf whistle at the sight of Damon, impeccably dressed in an all black Armani suit and tie. He wore the black suit on black shirt sinfully well and the blood red rose he held in one hand gave him a dramatic, romantic flair that made Jenna's heart pound. Wow, was all she could think as she stepped back to let him in. "Elena isn't quite ready," she said peering around Damon's shoulder to take a look at the stretch limo parked in front of the house.
Damon smiled. "Ahh, she's already mastered the art of being fashionably late? Nice," he said with a wink.
Jenna nodded. "You know us women…can't seem to eager, right? Or else you guys just seem to run the other way." She headed for the kitchen. "Want something to drink while you wait?"
Damon followed, "Sure. What do you have?"
Jenna could feel those eyes on her and turned to look at him over her shoulder, she blushed at the knowing look he had on his face as if he knew he made her pulse accelerate. "Um—wine—whiskey—vodka..." She pulled out several bottles and set them on the center island. "Choose your poison," she said, trying to keep the breathlessness out of her voice.
Damon leaned a hip against the counter. "Bourbon—neat."
Jenna nodded, poured him a drink and then before he could reduce her to a stammering schoolgirl, she said she'd go and see what was keeping Elena. She pretended she didn't hear his little chuckle as she practically ran out of the kitchen…
Upstairs:
Elena was just finishing the touches on her make-up when Jenna opened the bathroom door and poked her head in. "He's here," she whispered. "And oh my God can I just say—wow! That man should have a warning label stamped across his chest!"
Elena swallowed. "Huh?" she said, applying her lip gloss.
"Elena he's dressed in Armani—he has a limo waiting and my God, he oozes sex appeal—are you sure this is a good idea for you to be going out with him?"
"I had to," Elena replied dropping her gloss in her purse and snapping it shut. "Did you see the crazies after him? Mrs. Bindley went all stalker-granny on him. I felt sorry for him."
Jenna gave a small snort that sounded suspiciously like a 'yeah-right', but covered it with a cough when Elena frowned at her. "So," she said, "any idea where's he's taking you?"
"No," Elena replied with a shake of her head. "But knowing Damon—it could be anywhere so I wore a dress, but brought jeans in my bag." She gave herself another once over in the mirror before turning to Jenna. "Okay, so how do I look?"
Jenna smiled as she took in Elena's sleek black dress. It was silk, with a lacey, asymmetric skirt that flared when you walked. The neckline was deep and rounded and to give it the 'va-room' it needed to make it breathtaking; it was backless. You had to have a great body to pull this dress off and Elena had just the figure for it. Jenna couldn't help but think Damon would be more than pleasantly surprised, he'd be stunned and—her thoughts stopped there. Her niece and the stud-muffin downstairs locked in a kiss wasn't a visual she wanted in her head. "You look gorgeous," she said. Elena's face flushed and Jenna hugged her. "Just wait, his jaw is going to hit the floor," she whispered before letting Elena go.
Elena froze. "Maybe I should change—I don't want him to think I got all dressed up—"
Jenna held up a hand. "He's dressed in Armani—didn't say that already?" Elena nodded and Jenna crossed her arms, surveying her niece admiringly. "Believe me. You two will look magnificent together."
Elena ran her fingers through her long locks nervously. "This isn't Stefan I'm going out with tonight—you realize that right?"
"Definitely," Jenna concurred. Her brow shot up and she smirked. "I don't ever remember Stefan showing up looking quite that delicious or sporting a limo that would make even the Fells' stand up and take notice."
"He's just trying to show off," Elena said, but she was smiling, glad that Damon had made an effort to make this a "date-date".
"And he's succeeded," Jenna said, handing Elena her purse. "Now get going—fashionably late is one thing. Much longer and you're just a bitch!" she teased.
"Fine-fine," Elena said, laughing softly as she left the bathroom. She paused at the top of the stairs, her hand on the railing as she glanced down to see Damon waiting there. Their eyes met and her heart stopped. Jenna had said he looked sinfully delicious, but that didn't quite do him justice. He looked so handsome; Elena couldn't quite catch her breath. Her eyes roamed his body, taking in the suit, sexy bedroom eyes and the rose…she finally breathed and wondered how she was ever going to get through the night without falling at his feet and making an ass out of herself. Damon was always sexy, but tonight, looking the way he did, he was positively lethal.
It was his all-too-knowing smirk that finally made the neurons in her brain fire, signaling her legs to move. "Um…hi," she said, wetting her lips as she made her way down the stairs.
He took her hand and brought it to his lips. "He-llo Elena. You look…delicious." He made it sound like a caress and she shivered. He produced the rose with one hand while managing to tuck her arm into his with the other. "Ready?" he asked with a smile.
Oh God, Elena said to herself. No! Definitely not! But she managed to keep her cool. "Sure," she said, taking a deep breath to still her racing heart.
Jenna came down the stairs. "Call me if you'll be coming after than midnight."
Damon paused at the door and turned, bringing Elena with him. "Oh, I'll make sure she does," he said with a devilish gleam in his eye that made Elena flush red and roll her eyes even as Jenna paused as if wondering if he was meaning what she thought he meant, but before she could ask, they were gone. She got down the stairs and opened the door just in time to see the limo pull away.
"He didn't say what I thought he did, did he?" she murmured as watched the huge black car make a left at the end of the street.
"So where are we going?" Elena asked as she settled back into the plush leather seat.
Damon reached across her lap to grab the bottle of Cristal champagne chilling in a silver ice bucket. "South Carolina," he said casually as he began to unwrap the metal foil on the bottle.
"Huh?" Elena asked, surprised and showing it.
"Did I stutter?" he said, tossing the foil aside and tackling the wire net that kept the volatile cork in place.
"No, but why is it every time we go anywhere it's out of state?"
He put the little metal net in the ash-tray. "The better to eat you there, my dear," he said with a wicked grin just as he popped the cork on the bottle. Foam and champagne erupted from the bottle in a gush and Elena squealed as some of it sprayed onto her.
"Shit!" he said wiping at his own shirt. They glanced at each other. Damon's lashes were wet and spiky. Elena's hair had suffered too. It was hilarious and they both started laughing at the same time.
Damon grabbed two crystal flutes and poured them each a glass of the bubbly alcohol. "I guess it's a good thing I have a private dinner planned because we both smell like a couple of drunken fools right about now!"
Elena was still grinning when Damon handed her the glass. "What should we toast to?" she asked.
"How about we toast to the beginning of a new relationship…" he teased.
Her smile slowly faded. "Why?"
"Because this is a monumental occasion—here you are…on a date with me, while Saint Stefan sits home and broods…" He tilted his head to the side and that little half smile was back. "That alone deserves a toast!" he said with a wink.
Elena rolled her eyes at the way he taunted his brother, but she raised her glass. "To our first…" she paused, wanting to wipe that smirk off his face, "and last date."
He rolled his eyes, but downed his glass just as she did. He poured them another glass. "To honesty—the truth is always better than fiction, right?"
Elena gave him a strange look, but drank her champagne. "To letting go. Sometimes it's better than hanging on to something that'll never be," she said, smirking at him as the barb struck home. They both downed their glasses.
He refilled again. "I want to drink to tonight…" His magnetic aqua eyes danced as he stared at her. "May it be everything we both want it to be."
Elena's hand froze mid-air and she didn't sip her champagne. He frowned. "Why are you playing this game with me?" he asked softly, taking the glass from her hand. "We both know it's over between you and Stefan. You love him, Elena, but you're not in love with him anymore. He doesn't make you shiver and shake, not like I do," he whispered huskily. Elena bit back her moan as he pressed her back into the seat, his hands sliding up her bare arm to play with her collar bone. "We both know if I wanted to I could have you right here—right now and you'd give in. I can hear your heart—I can feel your pulse jump every time I touch you."
His hypnotic voice lulled her into a mesmerized sense of lethargy. Her body was throbbing—she was getting wet and he was right. She wanted him—had for a very long time. "Damon," she said it as a whine, pushing at his chest. "Stop it."
But Damon was a predator. He sensed his prey's weakening resolve. Quicker than she could blink he was blanketing her body with his own. "You know you want to kiss me…" he whispered against her lips, "so go ahead, do it," he told her, licking his lips enticingly. "Kiss me."
With a soft sigh, Elena gave in to temptation and pressed her lips to his. It was like an explosion of butterflies went off in her tummy. Heat unlike anything she'd ever known raced along her nerve endings, pooling in her belly and making that place between her legs pulse and throb with a desire she'd never felt before. Elena whimpered and tunneled her fingers in his hair as she opened her mouth to his kiss. Their tongues mated, entwined—tasted each other with a hunger that had been too long denied. It was almost painful, the emptiness in her belly that demanded something to satisfy it. She fell back on the seat, clinging to Damon as he followed after her. Her body hummed, need like she'd never known swarmed over her, lowering inhibitions and making her willing to do things she might not have done with a clear head.
"Please…" she moaned, opening her legs as he settled between them. The bulge in his pants pressed tightly against her core and Elena arched under him. "Oh God!" she gasped, panting and sweating as they ground against each other.
Damon clenched his jaw. The animal in him wanted to just take her—damn the consequences. She wrapped her thighs around his hips, pressing that sweet spot against the raging hard on he was sporting and and he had to suppress the urge to rip her clothes off and just get inside. He stopped himself. This was Elena, not some sorority girl he wanted to fuck for a night. Something was between them—he wasn't sure what it was yet, but it was there. Powerful and potent, maybe even more potent than what he had with Katherine even…
"Damon…" she breathed in his ear and he groaned low and deep, trying to keep his vampire instincts at bay.
"Elena," he gasped as she tilted her hips and rubbed herself against his erection. "You have to stop, or I won't be able to," he said softly, cupping her face.
"Don't wanna stop," she said licking his ear.
It was too much. Damon gave a tiny thrust of his hips against her hot center. He could feel the wetness there—could smell her arousal and it had him painfully hard, but he didn't want her like this—in the back seat of a car. A quickie here might satisfy the baser needs he was feeling right now, but it wouldn't give him what he wanted…Elena; naked, laid out on a bed in all her glory begging him to fuck her…It might be silly to wait, but it was his fantasy and he was sticking to it.
"Elena—stop—fuck stop!" he gasped, levering himself off her. He was shaking with the need to pound himself into her. He collapsed against the seat doing his best to ignore the little whimpering noises she was making when suddenly red and blue flashing lights appeared behind them. Damon turned his head to stare out the back window. "Shit!" he snapped, straightening his clothes. "Elena get up—we're about to have some very unwelcome company, sweetheart," he said with a grimace. He waited for her to sit up. She looked dazed and he could totally relate.
"Is that…? Oh God, why are the police behind us?" she asked as she starte3d to fix her clothes.
"I haven't a clue," Damon said as he helped her to rearrange the bodice of her dress before rolling down the privacy screen between the driver and the back. "Jeez man, how fast you going?" he asked, scowling at this turn of events.
As if it had hit her how close she'd come to begging him to have sex, Elena had retreated away from him and was now firmly ensconced at the other end of the seat. Damon glanced at her, she looked positively mutinous. Dammit! He glared at the driver, thoroughly pissed. "Getting pulled over wasn't on the agenda as far as I can remember…"
"Mr. Salvatore, I was doing the speed limit—I have no idea why we're being pulled over," the chauffer replied.
"Well fix it," Damon snapped and rolled the window back up before he gave into his baser urges and just ripped the guy's throat out for spoiling what was a monumental moment for him and Elena.
They pulled over to the side of the highway and the police cruiser eased up behind them. The siren was cut, but the bright blue and red lights of the cruiser flashing behind them made the inside of the limo look like a tiny nightclub. Elena huddled back in the soft leather seat as the police officer walked over to Damon's side of the car. There was a tap on Damon's window and he glanced at her, frowning. "Why is he knocking on my window?" he said to himself as much as to Elena. She was still trying to come to grips with being torn from intense pleasure to this so she just stared at him numbly. He rolled the window down. "Um…officer I think you want to talk to—hey—what the—shit!" he sputtered as a hand reached in and pulled him right through the window.
Elena's jaw dropped and she scurried across the seat, opening the door just in time to see Damon being held aloft by the tiny police officer and being shaken like a rag doll by none other than…
"Mrs. Bindley!" Elena shouted, stumbling from the car and running across the deserted highway towards them.
Damon finally broke Octo-Granny's powerful grip. "She's a vampire, Elena—stay back!" Damon snarled, dropping t the ground. Damon didn't bother to ponder the bizarreness of the situation. He simply lowered his shoulder and charged the wizened little old lady vamp that was seriously becoming a pain in his ass.
Elena gasped as they sailed across the road with Damon landing on top. Seeing him pummeling Mrs. Bindley was disturbing, but seeing Mrs. Bindley's fangs erupt as he hit her was even more so! Damon's eyes turned black too and they growled at each other.
"Is there anything with wood in it in the trunk?" she asked the driver, but he was just staring at Damon and Vamp-Granny with bulging, stunned eyes. He'd be no help. Elena grabbed his keys and went to the trunk, opening it quickly. She searched for and found something viable to use. It was a crappy little hammer—it only took a few wild swings at the ground to send the "hammer" part of the hammer flying.
Meanwhile Damon was wrestling around on the ground with the newly discovered vampire Octo-Granny. "What the hell do you want?" he growled.
"You!" she snarled back. "She said I could have you!"
He gaped. "What? You're kidding right?" He squeezed her throat harder, banging her head off the ground over and over until she started to howl. He released her and jumped to his feet. "You followed us—attacked us because you—what—wanted me?" He made a face of utter disgust as he realized how seriously bad tonight could have gone had she won the bid, until he realized what she'd said. "Who? Who said you could have me?"
Just then Elena rammed the wooden handle of the hammer into Octo-vamp's heart. The aged vampire withered quickly, falling to the ground with a groan. Damon scowled, realizing he wasn't getting any of the answers to his questions. "Why'd you do that?" he snapped at Elena.
Elena stumbled back shooting him a confused look. "Because she wanted to hurt you!" she yelled at him, hurt and angry at his tone.
Damon stopped as it dawned on him she'd just killed for him. "Elena," he said softly. "I'm sorry." He opened his arms and she stepped into his embrace.
"She was a vampire…" she mumbled into his chest. "How come you didn't know?"
One arm wrapped around her waist while the other petted her head soothingly. "It doesn't work that way. We can't smell each other…" he sighed, placing a kiss on the top of her head. "Plus in a place like the Grill—so many heartbeats…it all blends together. It's too hard to tell one heart beat from another."
She raised her head. "You say you can scent me, yet how is that you couldn't tell she was a vampire?"
He shrugged. "Well, I was more concerned with where her hands were going than a heartbeat, first of all," he said with a smirk. "She had a lot of hands…" Elena grinned. "And second, I know your scent, Elena. I could smell you in a room even if you were with two hundred other women."
She leaned back and made a face. "Okay, I'm not sure if that is a compliment or an eew kind of thing," she said scrunching up her nose.
He laughed before he noticed the driver still standing there staring at them like they were all insane lunatics. "Shit," he muttered. "Wait here," he said and with blurring vamp speed he was across the road and in front of the driver.
Elena watched as he grabbed the man's face in his hands. Damon began speaking to him in a low, hypnotic way and within moments the man was all smiles again. While the driver fixed the non-existent flat tire, Damon dragged Mrs. Bindley off the road and down into the brush growing along the highway, come morning she'd burn up and disintegrate, so he wasn't too worried about her being found.
When Damon returned, the driver opened his door. "Got that tire fixed Mr. Salvatore. Are we ready to go?"
"Totally," Damon said and helped Elena back into the limo, climbing in after her. He wondered who had put Octo-vamp on his trail, but he refused to let it ruin his night. He had something very special planned for Elena and if her actions from earlier was any indication—he'd definitely be using the cabana he'd rented earlier. After tonight Elena would know it was him she wanted and not his whiny brother…of that, Damon was absolutely determined.
They'd been driving for a few hours, drinking champagne and making idle chit-chat, both of them avoiding the 'almost-sex' they'd had, when Elena finally asked, "Where in South Carolina are you taking me, Damon?"
He poured himself another glass of Cristal. "A perfect place for us, Elena…" he told her, continuing the air of mystery.
"But where is that exactly?" she asked.
The driver beeped the intercom just then and Damon smiled, "Hold that thought," he said as he hit the intercom button. "Yeah?" he asked.
"Folly Beach is right up here on the left, sir. Did you want to make a stop before that?"
Elena giggled. "Folly Beach!" Damon rolled his eyes as his surprise was blown, but Elena's smiling face made his undead heart lift. "You're taking me to Folly Beach for a date?"
"I thought it fitting," he said as they pulled into a secluded parking lot. The driver opened their door and Damon got out before taking Elena's arm himself and helping her out of the car. He leaned against the car and took off his shoes.
"What are you doing?" Elena asked.
"Taking my shoes off—our cabana is right on the beach and unless you want to ruin those Jimmy Choos—you better take em off," he said.
Elena wasn't sure what stunned her more, the fact that he knew her shoes were Jimmy Choos or the fact that he'd had a cabana set up for them right on the beach. She decided she didn't care—Damon was showing a side of himself she'd never seen before and it was making her see possibilities where there hadn't been before tonight.
She immediately undid the strappy sandals. "Okay—I'm ready."
He paused, meeting her eyes directly. "Are you?"
Elena's breath caught. They weren't talking about shoes anymore and she knew it. "Yes," she whispered.
He held his hand out and with a soft sigh, Elena took it. He led her down the beach for a bit before they came to a brightly lit encampment. Music was playing from a speaker somewhere and there was a fire pit, with two BBQ grilles set side by side next to it. Several people milling about preparing food and setting the beautiful candle lit table that was set aside from the activity, but close enough to the fire to give it a cozy feeling.
Elena was stunned speechless. She'd never had anyone go to this much trouble and care on a date with her before. Not even Stefan had ever made her feel so…well, special. This was spectacular and she blinked as she felt ridiculous tears fill her eyes at how much effort Damon had obviously put into this.
"This is…amazing," she breathed.
He smiled. "I love this place. It has a great history…I fought here in 1862, did you know that?"
Her eyes popped as her jaw dropped. "Um…no and whoa that's like…so weird."
He laughed as he led her to their table. "See that lighthouse?" he asked pointing to the tower out in the middle of the bay.
"Yeah," she said, smiling up at him as he pulled her chair out for her. "What about it? Did you attack it or something?' she joked as she sat down and automatically put her napkin in her lap.
"No, but I was holed up in there for two days when Union troops stormed the beach," he said softly, his eyes glazing over as he remembered a time she had only read about in history books.
Elena paused. "Seriously?" This was the first time she'd ever really heard about some of the Salvatore past. Stefan was always so close mouthed about it. "Were you scared?"
He made a face. "I was human—what do you think?"
"Terrified huh?"
He put his elbow on the table and rested his chin in his palm. "Pissed myself," he teased.
She laughed and made an *eew* face. "I doubt that, but that's a visual I so don't want—so we're just going to hit delete on that info, okay?" she said giggling.
Damon was charmed. Seeing Elena so relaxed—this was how she should be, he thought. Not all mopey and sad because Stefan couldn't handle what he was.
The waiter came to their table. "Hello, Mr. Salvatore, what can I get for you and the lovely Elena tonight?" he asked producing a wine list and menus for them both.
Elena took the menu, her eyes widening at the use of her name. She glanced at Damon, but he just smiled as if saying 'you haven't seen anything yet' and her heart warmed even further—he really had put a lot of detail into this date…
"I'll have a glass of Bushmills to start off with. Elena, do you want a wine cooler?" She nodded still a little stunned at how he'd arranged all this so quickly. He raised a brow at her. "What flavor?"
She shrugged. "Um…black cherry," she said off the top of her head.
Damon's eyes never left her face, even as the waiter told them he'd be right back with their drinks. "You look..." He smiled, "dare I say it...happy?" he teased.
Elena leaned across the table. "Damon this is incredible—why did you do all this?" she asked.
He wasn't even ready to answer that question. "What makes you think I don't do this with all my dates?" he quipped.
"Oh, yeah…" She made a *sheesh* sound. "How silly of me to think this was special," she said numbly.
Damon watched as Elena wilted back in her seat. The light slowly faded from her eyes and she lost the sparkle she'd had just seconds before. Damon could have kicked himself for hurting her. "Elena…" he said reaching across the table to grab her hand, but she tugged it away. "Elean--stop, listen to me..." he said.
"No! You don't have to make me feel better, Damon," she bit out, struggling to keep her emotions at bay. "Don't pity me. Let's just get this over with. We'll eat and you can take me home. No harm--no foul. We'll just pretend this night ever happened, okay?" she snapped, turning away from him and hiding behind the curtain of her hair when he tried to see her face.
Damon's face showed his consternation at blowing this so badly. He'd just succeeded in pushing her away. "Elena," he said, making her look at him. There were tears in her eyes and it stunned him. He wasn't sure when his simple desire for Elena had turned to something more—maybe it was when she'd hugged him after the 'tomb debacle' or maybe it was even before that, but the fact was what he felt for her now was a hell of a lot more than just attraction. Seeing her crying gutted him. "Shit," he said his brows drawing down. He wiped at a tear with his thumb. "I'm sorry. I'm an ass. I was—" His words ground to a halt. This was a do or die moment. Did he tell her how he really felt? He sighed and gave in to the feelings churning in his gut. "I wanted this to be special because you're special, Elena," he said softly.
She raised her head. Her eyes gave away her suspicion at his motives—Damon never showed his emotions. Well, unless it was about Katherine…then he was full of emotion. With a start, Elena realized she was jealous of the long absent vampiress who was her doppelganger. She was about to excuse herself, when something happened—Green day's 'Time of Your Life' came on and Elena paused to listen to the lyrics. 'Another turning point-a fork stuck in the road…" It was like the song was speaking to her. She felt her throat close up. Especially when it said 'so make the best of it and don't ask why. It's not a question, but a lesson learned in time. It's something unpredictable, but in the end there's right—I hope you had the time of your life.'
She used to live life like that-like every last moment was the time of her life, but in the last few months she hadn't. She'd been too wrapped up in Stefan's trauma and it had bled over into her day to day existence keeping her in the land of the depressed. Damon was right—she did want more. She was tired of being sad, she wanted to have fun again. She wanted to love life again and she had a sudden instinctual feeling that Damon was the key to that. Without allowing herself to think about what she was about to do, she reached across the table, grabbed him by the collar, yanked him to her and kissed him--hard. To say who was more stunned by her show of dominant aggression—Elena or Damon, would have been a toss up, but once Elena took the step, she followed through with a nibble on his bottom lip that got him instantly hard.
She licked her lips, daring him to deny he wanted her as badly as she wanted him. "Now—what were you saying?"
Damon just blinked those amazing eyes at her. "Was I talking?" he asked with a sexy little half smile. "After a kiss like that you can't seriously expect me to have a thought in my head…" His smile turned decidedly wicked, "well—except for the obvious lewd and lascivious ones, that is."
Elena flushed to the roots of her hair. But a bubble of laughter burst forth when he wiggled his eye brows at her ridiculously. She held her stomach laughing. He made her feel so free—like she could have anything she wanted as long as she just went out and got it. No one had ever made her feel so confident. Damon did. When she could talk again, she flipped her hair over her shoulder suggestively and batted her lashes at him flirtatiously."What kind of lewd and lascivious thoughts?" she asked with a smirk.
His jaw hung for a split second before he laughed. "Really? You really want to go there?"
She shrugged, licking her lips. "Why not? Tell me what you're thinking right now?"
Never taking his eyes off her pink little tongue, Damon leaned across the table. "I'm thinking that I'd like to lay you out—naked. Right here on this table and eat you instead of whatever meal is being prepared right now." Elena gave a small gasp as her entire body went into hyper lust-drive. Damon ran his tongue along his lips. "I can guarantee your sweet little kitty will be juicier than anything that chef is going to bring to me," he said with a crude, ribald honesty that should have offended Elena, but didn't. He raised his eyes to hers. "Happy?"
Elena's face was the shade of a rip apple, but she'd asked, right? He was sexy--honest and definitely into her like she was into him. The part of her that was terrified told her to run--run now and don't stop until she was safely tucked in her own bed, but that other part--the part that used to rule her life--the part that Damon inspired insisted she stay put. But--she grabbed her drink and gulped a few fortifying swallows down before giving him another flirty glance. "So what's stopping you?" she asked, holding her breath as she awaited his reaction.
Damon's eyes widened. Had she just…? He didn't wait to be invited twice. He stood up, grabbed her hand and pulled her from her seat. "I'm going to make you scream," he told her as he tossed her over his shoulder. Elena gulped and her world tilted and whizzed by at a blinding speed as he shot across the beach and into the cabana set up for them to sleep in.
He tossed her on the big soft king sized bed. Elena rolled onto her back. She swept her hair out of her face and glanced up at him. They stared at each other for several seconds before Damon kneeled on the bed and crawled across it.
"Are you sure--because once yuo're mine, I don't share," he growled.
Elena nodded and he didn't ask twice--Damon kissed her. "I need you," he said, as they fell back on the bed, kissing wildly as if they could get inside each other through their mouths.
The lovers on the bed were so into each other they never noticed the huddled figure that peeked in--stumbled back and scurried across the beach with long, angry strides...
Okay guys, I know this was just supposed to be a two parter—but musie got carried away and this was the result—now it's a 3-fer!!
The rest is almost pure smut. :) :) :) Love that!! Okay, before Jen melts into a puddle of Jenna goo, click the button—feed the musie beetch so she feeds me and we'll all be fat and happy!!
Jen
:) :)